Listen to Your Master
by Daniella Jones
Summary: The Silence have helped the Master escape the Time-lock and have restored his ability to regenerate. Why? To eliminate Sherlock Holmes! Why? That's what the Doctor wants to know. The Master is rather enjoying being a consulting criminal. NO SLASH. R&R!
1. Prologue

**Hey there :) This is my first Wholock fic so I hope you enjoy!**

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><p><span>Listen to Your Master<span>

Prologue

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><p>Fire.<p>

That was the first thing he saw when he found himself on Gallifrey. First thing he smelt. The Capitol was aflame. The other Time-Lords were behind him, still composing themselves. Rassilon lay still on the cold metal floor. The Master smirked. He had just brought the Lord President to his death bed – but not for long. The Master searched the area for a way out.

"My Lord!" One of the Gallifreyans exclaimed. They collapsed onto their knees by the President's side. Then they stood up and stepped back from the body and faced the others. "It has begun. He is regenerating."

The fire was spreading around the room. It shook as war raged on outside. The Master caught sight of the automatic doors at the entrance. _A way out_. The Master sniffed the air and smirked once again. "I'm starving."

The Master sprinted across the room and out the automatic doors just before it was blocked by the growing flames. His clothes where barely singed. He stopped and took a look at the battled before his eyes.

Loud.

It was very loud. There was screaming; battle cries that could be heard miles away. Blasts and explosions echoed distantly in the wind. The Master looked up at the blood red sky, flecked with daleks, battle TARDISes and spaceships colliding with each other and shooting at each other.

Hell, the Doctor called it. This was hell – the battlefield Gallifrey had been reduced to.

"My kind of place," he murmured, grinning. The ground shook from an explosion a couple meters away and he was thrown onto his side. His ears were ringing as green smoke with wisps of purple clouded the area. Everything was so_ loud_.

But it was quiet. It was so quiet. The outside was so _noisy_. He sat huddled on the rocky ground, covered in rubble and clutching his head. It was gone. _Gone._ The Master lowered his shaking hands and stared up into the blood red sky.

Quiet. His head was so quiet.

The drums were gone. The never-ending drums...

_Gone._

Rassilon didn't need the signal anymore. There was no way out of the time-lock anymore. The President of Gallifrey had taken out the drums. Just when he was starting to like it. Just when he had begun to accept his insanity. _Gone._

He scrambled up onto his feet. The whole world was spinning. He had those drums for almost his whole life. The things he's done. The things the drums have helped him accomplished.

Gone as well.

"_I don't know what I'll be without those drums."_ He had told the Doctor. Now he knows what he is. He can feel it with every beat of his hearts.

He is nothing.

"Argh!" The Master muffled a scream and collapsed onto the ground, clutching his sides. His chest was heaving and his breathing was shallow. His life force was fading - being eaten up. A small and pained sound slipped out of his mouth. He saw his whole body as a skeleton for a second. The Master was vulnerable. The Master was dying.

And then he heard it. A sound - an indescribable sound. The Master's head shot up and searched for the source.

Not far from him, a tall and slender figure stood with its hands by its sides. The Master crawled closer to it. Its eyes were hollow and sunken in. It stood in a black suit - from Earth. A typical Earth suit.

"You are the Master," it said in a sort of raspy voice, much like Darth Vader from that Star Wars movie he watched with Lucy Saxon in the 'year that never was', "You must return to Earth. You must seek Sherlock Holmes... and eliminate him. You will use the alias "James Moriarty"."

"And why," the Master stumbled onto his feet, trying to regain his strength, "would I do that? I can't even regenerate, people will recognize "Harold Saxon"!"

"We will restore your life-force." The alien didn't move.

"What?"

"You will regain your ability to regenerate."

The Master raised an eyebrow. "Well how am I going to get to Earth?" He asked pompously. "If you haven't noticed, Gallifrey is in a time-lock!"

"There is a fracture." The suited alien said. "We have developed a machine to manipulate it."

"Oh? You're working with others?" The Master smirked. "And who exactly is "we"?"

The creature still did not move, but merely tilted its head. "We are the Silence... And you will be James Moriarty."

"Alright." The Master agreed. "Take me to the fracture."

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><p><strong>I really hope that was okay so far. Was that a good start? Please review! I'd really appreciate that.<strong>

**I think that Moriarty is so much like the Master, I decided to make him the Master. That's how this fic came to be :)**

**R&R!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Okay, so I got a couple of alerts and encouraging reviews so I think I'm going to continue with this story :)**

**Thank you to all who reviewed!**

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><p>Listen to Your Master<p>

Chapter One

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><p>The Master stood in a dimly lit room. There was an arched machine in front of him. It looked somewhat like a gateway – or a portal.<p>

Except it wasn't.

He knew somehow. How did he know that it wasn't a gateway? He got this feeling – as though his guts were telling him to step inside. He needed to step into the machine.

The Master took a hesitant step forward.

_No_. He frowned. _Why do I have an urge to step into this? How the hell did I even get here?_ If he remembered correctly, he just walked away from the time war – turned his back to it – and found himself here. _Why am I not outside blowing up daleks and cybermen? Hell, I really wanted to beat the crap out of the Nightmare Child and –_

His thoughts were interrupted by a searing pain spreading throughout his body. His hearts were beating slower. Now, if he remembered correctly, this had happened earlier – just before he left the battlefield.

There it was again. The feeling in his gut. He _needed _to know why he was here. He remembered it was importa –

_Remembered._ The Master made a face. That word. It kept ringing in his head like an alarm. _He remembered._

Remembered what? His mind was racing a mile a minute. He could concentrate better on his thoughts now that the drums were gone. Oh, how he missed the drums. It was comforting to him at times like this – everything being so different and confusing – the drums were the only thing he could fall back on. The only thing that made him feel like _himself_.

Snapping the Master out of his reverie, the gateway began to glow. The arch emitted some sort of aura – or energy – faint purple light began to swirl in the middle, vaguely similar to the time vortex.

It was mesmerizing.

"It is ready," A voice said behind him, "step inside." The Master nearly jumped at the sound of the voice. He spun around quickly, yet cautiously. A suited alien stood before him. A _familiar _suited alien stood before him.

"What – who are you – "

"We are the Silence."

"I've seen you before… Where have I seen you before?" The Master demanded, bringing his hands to his head. He thought hard, trying to jog his memory of this creature. His eyes widened as realization dawned on him. "You led me here."

The alien merely stared at him with its hollowed eyes.

The Master was straining to remember what really happened. "You… lured me away from the battlefield and brought me… here." He tugged his hair slightly in concentration. After what seemed like hours, his eyes widened and the stared astonishingly at the alien in front of him. "You're going to restore my life source… give me back my ability to regenerate."

"That is correct."

"But… how?"

The alien gestured slowly towards the arch. "Step inside."

The Master nodded and slowly made his way towards the gateway. He grinned broadly as he walked towards the machine. _At least this might be able to make up for the loss of the drums._ Just a few feet away from it, his grin faltered and he stopped walking.

Frowning, he took a hesitant step backwards. _What am I doing? _He groaned and turned away from the machine. _I've missed something again._

Then he heard it again. The noise. The same one from the battlegrounds he heard before he blacked out. There was a sort of vibe in the room – urging him to step inside. _What the hell, I'm already dying._

He shrugged and entered the arch. It lit up and the two metal doors coming from nowhere closed the entire gateway. The Master was startled, seeing as he was encased in a dark, arched metal box. He slammed his fist against the metal.

"Hey! What's going on? What the hell is this thing?" He shouted, barely heard through the metal. The floor of the arch lit up. The yellow light grew brighter and brighter. Soon, the walls lit up as well. Once the ceiling lit up, the Master had to shut his eyes tight. The light just kept getting brighter it was blinding.

"Someone get me out of here!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. The heat of the light was making him sweat, and the walls were so hot his clothes were getting toasted. "Argh!"

He felt his whole body burning up. The searing pain forced him to huddle up on the ground, writhing in pain. He was struggling to breathe. Finally, he could hear the machine shutting down.

The lights went off.

There were spots in the Master's vision and his whole body suddenly felt as light as a feather. As soon as his eyes could focus, the Master stared at his hands. Regeneration energy surrounded it.

"What… what did you do to me?" He said to nobody in particular and the energy faded away. He slowly stood up and examined himself – his clothes were burned at the elbows and knees and the skin was raw.

"Your life-force has been restored." The Master nearly jumped when he heard a familiar raspy voice in front of him. His eyes darted in front of him. An alien. Where the hell did that come fro-

_Wait._

"What the hell?" He nearly shouted. "I've seen you before! So is that how this bloody works? I forget you whenever I look away?"

"Yes." It replied.

To the Master's own surprise, he smirked. "That's genius."

"You're opinion is not relevant."

"Hold on a minute." The Master had remembered something again. "You said – you said that there was a fracture… a crack in the time-lock."

"That is correct." The creature pointed to his left. "You must go. Now."

The Master nodded and ran to where the alien pointed him to. _Back to Earth. Back to the Doctor. _He grinned and started to sprint.

_BOOM!_

The room shook violently, and explosion had occurred up above. _So this place is underground, huh?_ The Master lost his balance and staggered on the spot. _What?_

"Not again," He muttered through gritted teeth. _What did I miss now?_ Now, there was a platform in front of him, rather than an arch. The platform glowed brightly, and on the screen next to it showed a date.

_20__th__ January, 2011_

Shrugging, he stepped onto the platform. "What could possibly go wrong?"

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. In front of him, a suited (not to mention familiar) alien, pointed at him. Electricity sparked and crackled around it and through its fingertips.

"You _will_ be James Moriarty," it said firmly. The Master's eyes widened as he grew aware of how close the alien's electrified fingers were to his face. "And you will see to it that Sherlock Holmes _dies_."

The crackling blue lines of electricity shot out at him like lightning. His body shook frantically as he tried to grab hold of something for support. He shouted in pain, agonizing pain.

As soon as the spasms of electricity stopped, the Master sighed with relief. He wiped some sweat from his brow and tried to slow down his breathing. He felt a tingling sensation in his elbows and knees. The burns had healed, and the Master's face grew grim. _It's started._

"We will be watching you, Master." The alien said. Before he could say anything, the platform activated beneath him.

Just as he could see himself fading – being transported – regeneration energy erupted violently from his arms, legs and face. Suddenly, he was thrown into the time vortex, bouncing and colliding with everything as he regenerated.

A familiar noise found its way back to his head again – stronger than ever.

The drums. The never ending drums.

And then, everything went black.

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><p><strong>How was that? Hopefully I'll update sooner :)<strong>

**Just for a heads up: There won't be any slash or romance in this story. I hope none of you got the wrong idea when I mentioned the Doctor that way.**

**I feel that the Master is a little OOC. If you guys think that too, any way I could improve?**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Remember to review! Reviews encourage me to continue and update faster!**

**~ Daniella Jones**


	3. Chapter 2

**I'm terribly sorry for not updating in a while... I've been having some trouble characterizing people in this. I mean, it's my first Doctor Who fanfiction _and _Sherlock fanfiction all jumbled up into one big mess of a crossover.**

**Again, sorry.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

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><p>Listen to Your Master<p>

Chapter Two

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><p>"Oi, what the hell do you think your doin'?" A harsh voice woke the Master. Startled, he shot up onto his feet only to collapse onto his knees. He was still weak. He was still in the middle of his regeneration cycle.<p>

"What –" The Master paused and clutched his throat. "Hm, new voice."

"You drunk, mate?" The man said. The Master looked at him up and down.

"You're a construction worker." He said and looked around. "Hell, this is a construction site!" He began to laugh and grasped the stranger's shoulders, shaking them lightly.

"Listen to my voice!" He laughed changing the pitch of his voice at every syllable. "I have such a wide range! Oh, this is brilliant! Extraordinary!"

"You're drunk, aren't you?" The Master paid no attention to the man in front of him.

"Are you hearing the same voice I'm hearing?" He laughed insanely. "My voice is hilarious!"

"Shove off!" The man pushed the Master back roughly. "No drunks on my construction site!"

"Push me one more time, and you'll regret it." The Master growled, voice dropping low. _Looks like my voice can be taken seriously after all. Marvelous. _He chuckled and sauntered off the construction site and onto the main road.

Suddenly, his chest felt like it was going to burst open. His hearts were pounding violently inside him. He groaned and clutched his stomach, dragging himself to a nearby alley. Leaning against a dirty brick wall, he shut his eyes tight. His breathing became shallow as he felt a heavy weight on his chest.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. He opened his mouth and exhaled sparkling wisps of timelord energy. His mind was at peace and the alley was silent.

_Thud thud thud thud._

_Thud thud thud thud._

_1 2 3 4._

The Master stiffened. The drums. They were back. He frowned. Something wasn't right. The drums were getting softer and softer, fading until –

Nothing. His head was quiet once more. _This happened before, when I was in the vortex. They came back, but when I woke up they were gone…_

The Master was now sure that it was really his own insanity fueling the drums, driving him mad with the coming and going of them. _Huh._

He slowly made his way out of the alley and back onto the main road. A woman walked by him.

"Excuse me!" He called out after her. She stopped and turned to him cautiously. "Can you tell me where I am?"

"You're in Western Drumlins, mate!" She said half-heartedly and hurried off.

"Western Drumlins…" He trailed off, pondering what he heard. _Of course. The house with the angels. It should be somewhere around here._

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><p>The Master stood curiously outside the old abandoned house of the angels. If he remembered correctly, the angels should be gone.<p>

Maybe not _gone_, but dead – just statues now.

As Harold Saxon - an iconic and powerful man – he was able to keep tabs on the Doctor and his little companions. He knew of practically all his little adventures around the 21st century. He even knew of Sally Sparrow and the Nightingale siblings. That's the entire reason he knew where this house was and of its recent… _history._

_If the Torchwood files on this dump are correct, the angels should just be ordinary statues now. If not… I'll improvise._

He pushed the front doors open slowly, listening to the eerie creak of the hinges. The house was dark, moonlight shone through a couple windows, bringing a message on the tearing, worn out walls into the light.

**BEWARE**

**THE WEEPING ANGEL**

**OH, AND DUCK!**

**NO, REALLY, DUCK!**

**SALLY SPARROW**

**DUCK, NOW**

**LOVE FROM THE DOCTOR,**

**(1969)**

"Oh, Doctor…" The master ran his hand along the torn wall. "Where in all of time and space could you be now?"

He smirked, walking towards the cellar. The doors were open and he could see a little bulb flickering on and off. _He's probably off somewhere picking up earth girls._

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><p>"Rory!" The Doctor called after his friend. "We've got to go now!"<p>

"Why?" Rory frowned, throwing his towel over his shoulder as he walked towards the timelord. "We've only been here for half an hour."

"Yes, but –"

"Half an hour is enough time to have fun on a 51st century _space beach_ in Hawaii Five Omega! Amy's finally decided to get into the, um, purple shining… water."

"But there's something wrong! Something isn't right, Rory!"

"What's wrong?" Amy said behind them, jogging towards her boys. "This place is great! Rory, you don't even need a towel. As soon as you step out of the water, you're dry!" She told her husband, excited.

"Really?" Rory exclaimed, starting to run back to the shockingly pink sand.

"No!" The Doctor pulled Rory back by his towel.

"Doctor, why can't we just relax for once?" Amy pouted. "River's fine, you two got married, the Silence are gone for a while, and here we are! Back in the TARDIS since Christmas Day, travelling the universe for weird space beaches!" She finished with a fist-pump.

"Yeah," Rory nodded, "can't we just enjoy at least one more day of not fearing for our lives and saving the universe?"

"No," The Doctor looked rather grim, "we can't." He pulled up his sleeves to show off his arm. There were around twenty tally marks on it, scattered in bunches of five.

"Is that –"

"Oh no –"

"Why –" Amy looked crestfallen.

"I was having such a nice day!' Rory looked up at the glass sky, exasperated.

"We should go." Amy began to walk back to the TARDIS, shooting wistful glances at the beach. The Doctor followed her into the TARDIS, with a reluctant Rory soon after him.

"We should head to London, 2012." The Doctor said when they were all in the TARDIS and properly dressed. He pulled and twisted at things on the console.

"Why there?" Amy asked, curious as always.

"I don't know," The Doctor scratched his head, " but that was my first thought after discovering the marks on my arm."

He flicked another switch and pulled down the scanner, since it was flashing. "The Silence want me there, so it's the only way to find out what they're up to…"

**HERE COME THE DRUMS**

The Doctor visibly paled at the sight of this. "No," he said in a small voice, "it can't be…" _How could the message reach the scanner? Usually it would just get to the psychic paper. Only a timelord mind is strong enough for the scanner to pick up… But the only timelord who would say that – no. He's dead. Trapped in the time-lock with the other Gallifreyans. He wasn't really a timelord anymore anyway. He was a thing. Something made from death. He was dying._

_Then how could he reach the scanner-_

"Doctor, are you alright?" Amy walked up to him with a concerned look on her face. The Doctor quickly turned off the scanner and pushed it back up to the console. He turned to her quickly, feigning his usual happiness.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" He responded with a smile plastered to his face. Amy looked extremely skeptical, but before she could object, the Doctor pulled the small lever on the console.

"When in 2012 are we going to?" Rory said loudly, hands latched firmly to underneath the console as the TARDIS shook.

"No idea!" The Doctor grinned. "I'll leave that to the Ol' Girl to decide where we need to go!" Once the control room stopped shaking, the Doctor ran down to the doors with a spring in his step.

"London, 2012!" He said, opening the doors.

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><p><strong>TERRIBLY SORRY FOR HOW AWFUL AND OOC EVERYTHING WAS. I CAN'T WRITE FOR MY LIFE OKAY.<strong>

**I'd like to see some helpful reviews, like what I can do to improve. Well to be honest, I like reviews in general.**

**The next chapter's going to be really hard for me to write because well, IT'S SHERLOCK HOLMES. Yes, he and John are in the next chapter.**

**Actually, I can give you a small preview since I've written a bit out.**

**But I won't. Because I see nothing preview-worthy in it so far :P**

**Anyway, I hope this gets better and I update sooner.**

**REVIEWS ARE ENCOURAGEMENT AND MOTIVATION. (yes, I'm begging pathetically)**


	4. Chapter 3

Listen to Your Master

Chapter Three

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><p>"John, did you see that?" Sherlock beckoned over the army doctor as he stared out the window of 221B intently.<p>

"See what?" John replied, not moving from his place on the couch.

"Well, then did you at least _hear_ that?" Sherlock pressed.

"No." John walked over and joined Sherlock by the window. "What's that blue box over there?"

"It's a 1960's "police box"." Sherlock said, irritably making air quotations with his fingers. "An awful replica, really." He said as he left the window and made his way to the door.

"Replica?" John repeated, confused.

"Obviously." Sherlock muttered just loud enough for John to hear, taking his coat and scarf as he left without another word. John sighed and reluctantly followed.

"Obviously." He mimicked exasperatedly, going down the stairs.

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><p>"London, 2012!" The Doctor grinned, stepping out of the TARDIS. Amy and Rory followed behind him.<p>

"Who are you?" A deep voice next to him said. Amy and Rory jumped at the sound of the voice while the Doctor whirled around to face a tall man with curly hair, a coat, and a scarf.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor," The Doctor responded with a smile, but then he frowned and stepped closer to the stranger. "Wait just a tick! I know you. Sherlock Holmes. Good to see you again! It's me, the Doctor!"

"Doctor who?" A shorter man said behind Sherlock. The Doctor moved in to shake his hand.

"And John Watson! It's great to see you both again."

"Really though, doctor who?" John asked again.

"Remember? The Adipose on Halloween?" The Doctor waved his hand in front of Sherlock's face. "No? 2012?"

Before Sherlock could answer, the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and pointed it at the curly-haired man. John and Sherlock looked at the pulsing device curiously.

"Are you… bleeping him?" John said, bewildered by the Doctor's actions.

"Waving a light and a strange sound in my face isn't going to help your case." Sherlock said coldly, though anyone could see the excitement of a possible strange new case in his eyes. "John, phone Lestrade. Tell him to get –"

"There's no need to phone anyone." The Doctor pulled out his psychic paper from the inner pocket of his tweed jacket. "John Smith. Government official. I specialize in, err, landmarks. I'm bringing old-fashioned police boxes back to the streets of London."

John put away his phone and nodded slowly.

"Mr. Smith – if that's even your real name – showing me a blank piece of paper isn't going to convince me you're a government official." Sherlock brushed past the Doctor and strolled over to the TARDIS, inspecting it.

"Right, forgot that doesn't work on you." The Doctor murmured and put away his psychic paper. Sherlock knocked on the wooden doors off the TARDIS and observed the box.

"Doctor, you said you know him?" Amy said quietly behind the bow-tied man.

"Yes, I do." The Doctor replied, just as quiet.

"Then how come he doesn't know you?" Rory asked. The Doctor turned to face his companions.

"The answer is simple." He said. "Sherlock Holmes and John Watson haven't met me yet."

"May I take a look inside?" Sherlock asked loudly. The Doctor turned to the detective with a nonchalant look on his face.

"What for?" He said vaguely. "It's just a normal police box."

"That's where you're wrong." Sherlock went right up to the Doctor's face. "Who are you people? The three of you can't fit in that box without out your clothes rumpled, and all your clothes aren't. None of you were doing anything special in that box since those two are married and perfectly faithful to each other." Sherlock gestured to Amy and Rory and blatantly carried on. "None of you are making any sense, so do tell me – _who are you?_"

"Uh, none of your business!" Rory said indignantly, although it sounded more like a question. The Doctor smiled.

"Like he said, none of your business." The Doctor turned away from the detective. "Amy, Rory, let's go." He and his companions walked away without another word.

Sherlock watched them with narrowed eyes and waited until they turned the corner and were out of sight before he hastily kneeled down in front of the TARDIS doors and pulled something out of his coat.

"A lock-picking set?" John mused. He had never seen anyone treat Sherlock that way, and he sure as hell found it funny.

"Brought it in case I couldn't get it open." Sherlock explained as he stuck one of his pins into the lock. "It looks like and adequate Yale lock so this shouldn't take any more than a minute." John nodded and let Sherlock work.

It had been five minutes since Sherlock began trying on the lock and John was about to go back to the flat for a cup of tea.

"Nothing works! That's impossible!" Sherlock threw one of his tools to the ground in frustration. He ran his hands through his hair and dropped to his knees to put his eyes right in front of the lock, peeping into it. "That's no ordinary lock."

He stood up, put his tools back into his coat, and began walking away from the police box. "Let's go."

"Right, so what do we do now?" John followed Sherlock down the pavement – the same way the Doctor and his friends went. The "Doctor" had John baffled. If anything, he'd day they're a couple nutters who escaped from the looney bin – but John could already tell that Sherlock thought otherwise.

"We follow them," Sherlock said simply, with an excited glint in his eyes. "It's only been several minutes; they couldn't have gone that far."

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><p>The detective and his blogger had been tailing the trio for quite some time. The strange people from the police box had led them quite far from Baker Street. At the moment, the two found themselves hiding behind a crate in an old abandoned warehouse west of Thames River.<p>

"Doctor, couldn't you have just taken us here by the TARDIS?" The mousy man asked.

"Because, Rory, I don't want the Silence near the TARDIS." The Doctor told his two friends. "We still don't know much about them. We don't know what they can do…"

Sherlock frowned. "Silence? What silence?"

"Amy… You're arm…" Rory grabbed the redheaded girl's arm gently. She gasped quietly.

"Doctor!" She called weakly. Sherlock's frowned deepened when he caught a glimpse of her forearm.

"Tally Marks." He murmured, turning to face John. "What would that mea-"

"Sherlock." John's voice was shaky. In his hand was a handgun, pointed straight at the consulting detective. "What the hell…"

"John, what are you doing?" Sherlock moved his head out of the way, startled.

Everything happened at once.

John began firing his gun repeatedly at a strange, humanoid… _thing_. It had quite a shocking resemblance to Golem. The Golem-like creature collapsed to the ground from the force of the many gunshots.

"John! Stop!" The Doctor shouted in a panicked voice as more of the Silence appeared.

Sherlock ran at John, who had left their hiding place to shoot at it from an even closer range, and wrestled the gun from him. "Have you lost your mind!"

"The thing," John murmured, as if under a trance, "Kill it… I have to kill it… Should – should kill them all on sight."

The Doctor's companions jumped back, surprised by the presence of more of the creatures.

"Have to kill." John continued to mutter.

"What are they?" Sherlock thought out loud, slightly fascinated by the creatures that had surrounded the five of them.

"Aliens." Rory stated as he took a marker from his pocket, keeping his eyes fixed on the so-called aliens.

Amy was already one step ahead, marking her own arm with a black marker. She muttered numbers under her breath. "… Six, seven… Seven!" She announced. " There are seven of them here."

"Kill them all on sight." John whispered harshly.

"Why is John so compelled to kill them?" Sherlock's eyes narrowed at the Doctor with a tinge of accusation in his voice. "He's not himself."

"Every seen the Moon Landing?" The Doctor replied, nonchalantly. "There's a lot more in that video than people remember." He added quietly.

"Aliens?" John scoffed – seeming back to normal. "You're joking."

"They're aliens, John." Sherlock took a step backwards, his back almost touching the Doctor's. "What other explanation is there?"

"You have to believe us." Rory said, voice low and serious.

"Yeah? Why should I?"

"Because you're life depends on it!" Amy snapped at John, apparently losing her patience with him.

"Listen to them John." Sherlock said. "There are no marks or peelings at these creatures' jaw-lines suggesting these are masks. And what other reason would you be mindlessly shooting at them for?" He pointed at the army doctor's ready hand. "See! You've even gotten your gun back." John's eyes widened and he put the gun back in his jacket pocket.

"Fine. Maybe you're right."

The Doctor cleared his throat. "The Silence, yes?" He spoke pointedly to the alien in front of him. "Why have you lot brought us back to Earth?"

"He has returned." The alien loomed over the bow-tied man.

The Doctor swallowed. "I know."

"Who's returned?" Amy asked quietly. "… Doctor?"

He didn't answer her. "How did he escape?"

"We simply aided him," Spoke the alien, "on his way to Earth. To your destruction." Nobody could really tell whether it was talking to the Doctor or Sherlock at that point.

Sherlock stepped forward. "Who's returned?" He demanded. "Give me a name!"

"He knocks four times." It said slowly. The dim lights of the warehouse flickered off then back on, and the Silence were nowhere in sight.

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><p><strong>Apologies for the late update and that disaster of a chapter :\<strong>

**Anyways, review!**


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